


The Lord

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [18]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, I shall be using all the tropes!, Servants, Victorian Attitudes, legal stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: A marriage of convenience can work. As long as it's with the right man…-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Mr Turton! He's been sacked with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules.1840s Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. Takes place after the finale of the TV series and after the book has finished.Based upon the character Amos Turton, played by the gorgeous Paul Ritter.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	The Lord

**Author's Note:**

> A clause, a decision to be made. A wedding! But Mrs Brown has A Plan...
> 
> And we find out what Mr Turton's middle name is! Bet you can't guess?

The engagement party was set for eight o'clock that night. Lady Morgan was ready. As ready as she could ever be under the circumstances. The marriage wasn't a love match. And she wasn't exactly sure that there was any respect there either. She had resigned herself to the sad fact that she would just have to settle for whatever she could find at such short notice. Although, if anyone asked what was there in this marriage, apart from need, then she would draw a complete blank. 

-

Her lawyer had contacted her, called her in for a meeting in his office. _Most urgent_ , he'd said in the letter to her. 

There'd been instructions, left by the trustees of her father's will. To be carried out five years to the day after she had become either a widow or a divorcee, without any further marriage having occurred. She read the details and her blood froze. 

"But he changed his Will. Removed this clause. He said that he would update it!"

"I'm sorry, your Ladyship. Your father may very well have done so informally, but he did not inform us. So the previous, verified Will takes precedence," her lawyer informed her. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but this is where the law stands. You could contest it… but… well… You would most likely end up with no inheritance after all the legal fees. And it would take years of legal wrangling to resolve," he added.

The intention was meant to be good, meant to protect her, but her father had unwittingly forced her into a corner that she wholeheartedly hated. He'd originally meant for her to not be lonely, to have someone to share her life with, for someone to protect her, to oversee his work properly. Not thinking that she had the mental acuity, as a woman, to do so. But he had _promised_ her that he had changed it. Removed the clause after she'd proven her good sense in continuing his work unaided. _He promised!_ The rigid society she lived in meant that the kindly intended actions of her father would now be used to take away her hard won freedoms.

Now, she had to re-marry or lose her money. That was the long and the short of it. Well, not _lose it_ entirely, it would still be hers, but a trust fund would take control. All rights to spend as she wished would be taken away from her and instead be placed in the hands of a group of men she didn't know. Unless she married. Then the rights to spend stayed with her, but under the control of her husband, whoever he would be. _What a choice!_ She knew that her father had doubts about her continuing his work at the beginning. She couldn't entirely blame him. Everyone knew that a lone woman could become frantic and not be trusted with anything, god forbid actual money! She'd just fritter it away, wouldn't she? But towards the end, before his death, she knew that he trusted her, he'd promised her that he'd changed his Will. But his death was so sudden, he was taken from her so swiftly, with no chance to even say goodbye. There one minute, gone the next. 

The evidence of her accounts, as Mr Turton had proudly pointed out to her just that week, was that because of their astute investments, she had actually _earned_ more money than she'd _spent_ last year! But their hard work was all for naught now. All her hard work, _their_ hard work now felt utterly pointless. 

She swiped her tears away as she swayed in the carriage, sitting alone in its confines, on the way back to the house. She sighed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, wishing that Mr Turton were here. _He'd know what to do, wouldn't he? He'd know of a way out of all this surely?_ She sighed to herself. _You fool! You idiot! Of course he wouldn't! He is no lawyer, no clerk of the courts!_ she chided herself. _That's not what I need right now, more damn lawyers,_ she sighed. _No. What I really want is his comfort_ , she quietly admitted to herself. To be wrapped up in his arms, held as she set her sorrow free. _I've not been held like that in such a long time!_ she choked a sob down. But that could never be. _Another pipe dream!_ One that would definitely not happen now, not that it ever could anyway. _He's a butler, I'm a Countess,_ she sighed. _Stupid emotions and feelings! My feelings where that man is concerned are so messy, so beautiful, pure but scary!_ She swallowed down another sob as the carriage pulled up outside her house.

She stepped out of her carriage, releasing a sob upon seeing Mr Turton there, seeing his kind, gentle eyes as he stood there waiting for her, just as he usually did. She pulled her hand back, avoiding Mr Turton's outheld hand, ignoring his worried shouts after her as she dashed inside, running up the stairs. She locked herself in her room, leaning back against the door, sliding down until she sat in a crumpled pile on the floor, her tears flooding out, making a soggy mess of everything. Just as the clause had. _Everything is such a bloody huge mess!_

-

She avoided dinner, pleading a headache when Mrs Jones knocked on her door. 

"She says she has a headache, but I don't believe it. Something happened at the lawyers I warrant. Maybe you could try talking to her Mr Turton, if anyone can winkle the problem from her, it'll be you," Mrs Jones said to him as he stood over to the side of the dining room. Mr Turton watched as the two children sitting at the table sent worried looks between the two adults whispering over by the side.

"After dinner Mrs Jones," he whispered back to her. He raised his voice as he walked over towards the dining table, towards the two children. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Your mother just has a headache after dealing with those tedious lawyers. Come now children, you must eat. Mrs Brown has made some lovely pudding with pineapple!"

-

Mr Turton knocked on her Ladyship's door an hour later. 

"Will you let me in my Lady? We're all worried about you," he placed a hand upon her door. "I'm worried about you. Will you not come out, or let me in, to talk to me, tell me what's upset you so?" he whispered.

She bit her knuckles, stifling the sobs that threatened to renew their flow as she heard his heartfelt plea.

"I'm… I'm alright Mr Turton. I'm just… I've just got a headache… a bad headache… nothing to worry about… it will all be fixed soon," she answered, placing one of her hands against the door.

"Fixed, my Lady? You're not making any sense. What needs fixing? Please will you not talk to me?"

"I… I can't right now. I just need to think… to decide…" she leaned her head against the door, her tears flowing freely.

"Decide?"

"I'll… the meeting tonight. The Coger's meeting. I'll… I'll explain all then. I promise," she whispered.

"As you wish my Lady," he sighed. "I've left a tray outside my Lady, with some cold cuts and a cup of tea. Please at least drink the tea, if nothing else," he pleaded.

She heard the clinking of china outside her room. She was unable to stop the sound of her sobbing as the sound of the tray reminded her of the time before, when they'd shared this room, when he'd looked after her.

"Please, my Lady! Please let me in!" 

"I… I can't… not now… I'm sorry Mr Turton. I'll see you all later. I promise," she listened to his sigh and his receding footfalls, waiting five long minutes before opening the door. She looked down at the tray. A beautiful red rose lay upon it. Her vision blurred. _Oh God! What a horrible mess I'm in!_

-

She was pacing the room as the others arrived. Her staff, her family.

"Please would you all sit. I've got some news to tell you," she stood, wringing her hands as they all filed in and sat down.

She explained the clause, the Will to them all. She paused, listening to their vehement shouts, their arguments, their pleas. All of them shouting at her, over each other. All of them except Mr Turton. He just sat quietly, frowning at the floor, his hands gripping his knees.

She watched him and held a hand up, pleading for quiet.

"So… my choice, as far as I can ascertain, is to let a trust fund control me, or a husband. Not much of a choice really. So I've decided that, hopefully, I'll have more control over a husband than a faceless set of lawyers making up the board of a fund," she looked at Mr Turton. As she spoke, he raised his head, staring directly at her. His lips tightened and his eyes flashed.

"So," she said, staring directly into Mr Turton's eyes, "I'll just have to grit my teeth and set about finding a blasted husband!" There were more shouted protests, more angry stares from Mr Turton.

"I've three months from the letter's date to set an engagement, or the legalities of building my monetary cage will be set into motion," she explained. "And the letter was dated as of yesterday."

"Don't you worry Ma'am, I'll figure something out, we all will!" Mrs Brown patted her hand as she left. Daisy nodded and Mr and Mrs Jones added their assurances. 

Mr Turton didn't move from his chair. She went over and sat next to him. His knuckles were white where they gripped his knees, he kept his face downturned, not looking at her, not even when she placed one of her hands upon one of his. She watched as his eyes closed. He released a deeply sighed breath, opening his eyes and finally looking at her. 

"You're certain this is what you want to do? A marriage? To a… a _stranger?_ "

"I've no choice. Not if I want to carry on as I'm used to," she whispered. "I've no choice…" she repeated.

He nodded. Then stood, her hand fell, dropping away from him as he did so.

"I'll bid you goodnight then, Ma'am," he nodded at her, turned on his heel and left her sitting, crying her heart out.

-

Mrs Brown sat in the servants dining room, sipping her tea, her fingers drumming upon the table. _This needs careful thinking. Consideration, research and planning_ , she thought. _And, as far as I can see, none of those things were being done by anyone in this household, well apart from myself_ , she mused. She'd already sent a letter off to the lawyers, the answer was sitting on the table in front of her. This could be the solution to everything. No messiness, no heartache. _All of_ _the problems here in this household would be solved in one fell swoop._ She smiled to herself, finished her tea and stood. _Now comes the tricky part._ Manoeuvring the reluctant pawns into place would take some delicate persuasion, but Mrs Brown wasn't one to give up so easily. Not with so much at stake, including her own future.

-

Lord Montrosier had promised that she could keep her house and run it as she wished. He'd also agreed that she could _mostly_ keep her projects going too. She'd been firm on getting those pledges from him before agreeing to any engagement between them. Although he had bristled when she'd asked for the agreements to be drafted up by her solicitors and be placed in writing. That made her nervous. She didn't entirely trust him not to renege on his agreements. But what choice did she have? It was too late to start her search anew now.

He was a firm man. Owning several mills and factories in Yorkshire, where his wealth came from. He seemed genuine enough. Mrs Brown hadn't found any particularly bad reports about him. There were some slightly worrying accounts of the treatment of his employees though. But she hoped that she could help him with some suggested reforms, once they were married. 

The Lord wasn't a very affectionate man. His kisses were small pecks on her knuckles, never her lips. He pulled back sharply when she had attempted to kiss him properly. She started thinking back on the affection her and her husband had shared before they were wed, and the joy in each other they'd felt after. There was none of that here. Only coldness. _Well, it was a business transaction after all,_ she thought, justifying his actions. And she had two children already, so what did it matter if her husband wasn't interested in her like that? Mrs Jones had told her that he had a mistress that he'd set up in a house in Pimlico anyway. 

She shrugged. She'd managed years without any male affection, she was sure that she'd survive! She had grabbed desperately at the crumbs thrown to her by Mr Turton, his touches and beautiful smiles truly melted her soul. But that wasn't the same as a true loving marriage. It wasn't the same as affection or genuine returned love. Even those few stolen moments, those few small affections with Mr Turton had vanished now. He'd withdraw from her. He was the perfect deferential servant now. Seen and not heard. They all were. 

Since she'd told the household of the solicitor's revelations the interactions between her and them had altered. Their anger was palpable. 

Then, when not long after, she'd informed them of her decision to become engaged to marry Lord Montrosier, the disappointment she saw in their eyes had burned her.

To say that her household was not happy, would be a gross understatement. Mrs Brown took her aside, grabbing her on her way out to see Lord Montrosier. To give him her answer.

"You need to wait, let me figure things out. Give me time to plan! 'Es not good enough for you! I didn't think you were serious about accepting his offer when you asked me to check up on him! If you wait just a bit longer, then I've got something up my sleeve that could _maybe_ be an answer to everything! For all of us! Please Ma'am! Just wait!" she vehemently told her. 

"I can't! He's demanded my answer tonight and I'm running out of time! I can't afford to wait. I just can't!" 

-

She announced Lord Montrosier's acceptance of her answer the next morning and was met with the expected responses: loud protestations, shouted rebuttals from Mrs Brown; tears from Daisy; hand wringing and worried looks exchanged between Mr and Mrs Jones; silence and disappointment from Mr Turton.

Mrs Brown was now a constant, angry presence in the house, you could hear her banging and crashing around the kitchen from the top floor.

Daisy had withdrawn, often she'd hear her sobbing quietly, only to flee far from her when she'd try to offer comfort. 

Mr and Mrs Jones had resorted to curt acknowledgements, acting the part of perfect servants. 

Mr Turton confronted her.

"Why didn't you talk to any of us first, before making your decision, Ma'am?"

She shook her head, "But Mr Turton, the problem affects me solely, so it was my decision alone to make. It's me that needs to decide."

He bristled at her answer, his eyes narrowing, his lips thinning. 

"Don't you realise that any of your decisions affect all of us too? A change in your circumstances means ours will change also," he replied curtly.

"I made Lord Montrosier promise that I'd still be in charge of running things here!"

"Do you trust him to keep that promise?"

Her silence was answer enough for him. 

"I thought you were our friend? My friend! Why won't you trust us, _me_ , to help you? Mrs Brown says that she has a plan that could work, if only you'd stop and _listen!_ " he hissed. "Why won't you even talk to _me_? Does our friendship, yours and mine, mean _nothing_ to you?" His voice was low, his eyes flashing as he spoke.

"It does! _Of course it does!_ " she reached for one of his hands, but he drew away from her. "Please understand! This is a problem of my own making, and I'll fix it myself! I can't afford to involve _any_ of you. There may be consequences, and I'd not want anything to happen to _any_ of you because of something I'd botched!"

"You're decided then. On this marriage?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He stood, bowing and offering to her a curt "Ma'am," as he waited for her dismissal, which she granted. 

She watched him stalk away, his hands tightly fisted at his sides. She held back her sobs until after he'd left the room and his footsteps had faded away.

After that, she often happened across groups of them, huddled together whispering. They'd go quiet as soon as she neared. Falling into the deferential servant role that they only ever showed her now.

She keenly felt this change, but the relinquishment of Mr Turton's friendship hurt the most of all. It had gone, crumbled away like a soft sandcastle at the mercy of an ill-tempered tide. Replaced by a cool indifference towards her and an ill concealed anger at her decision. She had to hold back her heartbroken sobs when she saw his deliberate avoidance of her. His already rare smiles had now vanished entirely, becoming as extinct as her happiness. 

But she needed to marry to keep control of her wealth and some semblance of independence. And she wanted to make that decision herself without their help, so that if anything were to go wrong, it would be her fault alone. She dearly wished that they understood her reasoning.

-

"You should ask her now. Go! Confront her tonight, before she leaves! It's our last chance! You know I'm right! You're the only one that can do this!" Mrs Brown banged her fist on the dining table, rattling the china and the cutlery. "We agreed!"

"I… I can't… she'd be shunned!" 

"No! She'll cope. We all will! I checked and double checked the clause! I'm right and you need to act now man! Act now or it will be too bloody late!"

"No… I need to think… let me think…" Mr Turton stalked off.

Mrs Brown swore and cursed his lazy, stupid idiotic self. Cursing at all bloody men in general, but one stubborn butler in particular.

Mr Jones poked his head around the door of the servants dining room. "Is he going to do it? Like we agreed he should?"

"No. He's gone to his room to _think!_ I don't see what there is to fucking think about. Two fucking stubborn idiots!"

"Well… I'm bringing the carriage around the front, ready to take her Ladyship to the Montrosier residence."

Mrs Brown stood. "Do you have a good bottle of gin Mr Jones? I need to _persuade_ 'im some more!" 

"Hang on Mrs Brown!" Mr Jones scooted off to his room returning with a fancy looking bottle. "Here, that's a twenty pound bottle! But it'll be worth it if you get him to do what he agreed to!" 

She nodded her thanks, setting her features, mentally brushing herself down and pulling herself up to her full height before she stalked off to find Mr Turton.

-

So, here she was. About to have her engagement announced in front of the great and the good of London. All of the ones who had previously gossipped about her were there. All now sniggering and smirking at her behind their hands and her back. She'd heard all the tattle that was flitting around about her: that she had finally 'seen sense'; now she was getting married, she would be taken firmly into hand; all of those silly projects of hers would be stopped. The one that hurt the most was this one though: Honestly! What was she doing slumming with mere _servants?_

She gritted her teeth and made her way up to the front of the hall, steeling herself on her slow walk there, readying herself for the formal announcement. 

As she was holding her hand out to Lord Montrosier, there was a loud clatter of doors and shouting at the back of the hall, behind her. She spun around to see what the commotion was. What she saw made her flee swiftly over to the source, ignoring her soon to be fiancé's pleas to leave it be and to let his men deal with it. 

Mr Turton was being held by two footmen, fighting desperately against their hold, shouting and demanding to see her. 

_What is he doing here?_ she thought as her running feet drew her ever closer to the scene. Upon spotting her, he stopped struggling, ceased shouting and stared straight at her. His glare pierced her to the core, causing her to skid to a halt where she stood, still some two metres or so away from him. She sucked a deep breath in. It was the first time he'd looked at her directly since, well, since their confrontation last month. She walked with halting steps towards him, his penetrating gaze drawing her closer.

"Lady Morgan! Please! Am I too late? Has your announcement been made? Your engagement to Lord Montrosier?" he asked, struggling against the hold of his captors.

She shook her head. "No. Not yet."

"Good! We have time then! We urgently need to talk! Now! Before you announce anything! Please…!" he urged, pulling against his hold, as she stood in front of him. His eyes bored into hers, they held her in place just as surely as the two servants held him.

She addressed the two brawny footmen that were holding him. 

"Please, release him," she ordered, her focus still fixed solidly on Mr Turton, her eyes glued to his.

The two servants complied and bowed. 

"What is it that you wish to say to me Mr Turton?"

"Not here, outside, somewhere more private," he hissed, "away from all this lot!"

She took Mr Turton's arm and swiftly dragged him out of the hall. Ignoring the shouts of her name behind her. All the while she was guiding him, he was staring at her. Staring and smiling at her. She frowned as she detected the whiff of alcohol on his breath.

"Have you been drinking, Mr Turton?" she whispered to him.

"What? _No!_ Maybe a little? Just a couple of glasses of gin. Four at the very most. Dutch courage," he chuckled.

He was still gazing at her, but weirdly so, not anger or confusion or happiness even. But an odd mix of all those, and something else she couldn't quite pin down. Nerves maybe? It was completely unsettling, causing her to turn away from him and focus on quickly finding somewhere private where they could talk before anyone chased her down.

She eventually found a suitable, empty side room, and pulled him inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

"What's going on? What's happened? What is so urgent? Is it the house?" she paced in front of him, her panic increasing as he said nothing. Her frantic strides suddenly stopped and she turned a panicked look towards him. "Oh God! It's the children isn't it? _Has something happened to them!_ " 

He just looked at her with that ridiculous expression still plastered on his face. Now he had the audacity to actually chuckle at her. She frowned angrily up at him, crowding up close to him, hitting his chest with her fists.

"Why won't you tell me what is wrong? Why are you just standing there, _laughing at me?_ It's most irritating! If something bad has happened, please, for the love of all that is holy, _just bloodywell tell me!_ " she was panting with rage at him now, her face red, her fists pummelling his chest, her eyes brimming with tears. _What was wrong with the wretched man!?_

He gently placed his hands over her fists. Holding them. Stilling them. His face changed, becoming more serious, locking her gaze with his again. He towered over her, overloading all her senses with his presence. He finally spoke, his voice clear.

"Don't marry him. He doesn't love you. He shows you no respect in forcing you into agreeing to all his terms that he will not stick to, ignoring yours!"

"I know that! I know all of that! I understand all of the _risks!_ " she broke his gaze, looking down and turning away, pulling her hands away from his, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of his words. "I've no choice! It's not a marriage of love. It's for convenience!"

"Do you not remember what we all decided during one of the household's late night debates? Where we all agreed upon the most important gifts for a happy marriage?"

"Love and respect," she answered quietly.

"I'm offering you a different solution. An alternate marriage."

"Who?" she asked, her head snapping back up to his.

His features suddenly broke, revealing one of his dearly missed smiles.

"Me," he answered. "We may not love each other _that_ way," he shrugged. "But I respect you as a person, and love you as a friend and companion. If you think that you could accept my offer instead, then I'm here for you. I'm offering you myself as an alternative. Mrs Brown looked into the terms and it doesn't stipulate _who_ you have to marry. No terms about the rank or privilege for your husband were specified," he stated.

"I… I did not know that. I just assumed…" she frowned.

"Mrs Brown made the suggestion. And we all decided upon it. The rest of the household that is. We had a meeting and well, being the only unmarried man there, I didn't really have much competition," he chuckled.

She looked at him, staring at him, then moved away, to renew her pacing. 

_This, his offer, has merit_ , she thought. _More so than Lord Montrosier's has. I can completely trust Mr Turton on anything. I cannot say the same for Lord Montrosier!_ It was something that had been niggling at her constantly, worrying her like a splinter that refused to be removed no matter how hard she dug and rooted at its presence. Of course, she'd be shunned for marrying Mr Turton. He was way below her lofty status, but her wealth and thus her independence would be restored, so what did she care!

She stopped pacing and turned to face him. It was such an easy decision to make!

"I need to speak to Gordon, Lord Montrosier. I need to cancel the engagement." she told him. "You'd best go back home, it's probably not a good idea for you to hang around here."

"No," he shook his head, "I'll go and find your carriage and wait with Mr Jones," he explained.

"Yes. Please do. I won't be long, I don't expect that they'll want me hanging around!" she laughed, then swiftly exited the room, rushing off to begin the execution of her newly formed plan. 

-

Her solicitor drew up the contracts for them both to sign. Premarital agreements. Protecting them all: her; him; her children; her staff; all of her small family. Mr Turton signed everything gladly, with no hesitation. 

-

The wedding itself was held just one week later. It was a small affair, just her children, the wedding couple, the vicar, the household staff. Her small family. She wore one of her everyday dresses, he wore his brown suit.

No fancy wedding breakfast for hundreds of guests was needed. Nor was any expensive honeymoon. Although Mrs Brown didn't withhold from several lewd suggestions around this subject, causing blushes and frowns from Mr Turton and giggles from Lady Morgan. 

"Make way for the lovely bride and the blushing groom," she announced as they entered the church.

"Thank you, _as ever_ , Mrs Brown!"

"Well, her Ladyship has been married before, but you 'as not. Unless there's something you've not told me Mr Turton?"

"No, Mrs Brown, there is not! Not that I would tell you if there was!"

"Oh, if you need any pointers on anything, feel free to ask away Mr Turton," she nudged him.

"You know as well as I do that it's not a marriage in the proper sense of it. It's merely an arrangement!" 

"We'll see," Mrs Brown winked at him.

Mr Turton tutted, feeling this face heat again.

"Oh I know that the Missus really appreciated the gift of your most beautiful morning glory!"

" _Mrs Brown!_ "

"What? I'm referring to the flower of course. Nothing rude about that. Is there?" she winked at him.

"Mr Jones explained your meanings and _implications!_ "

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean Mr Turton!"

He squinted his eyes at her and walked past to join Lady Morgan at the front of the church. Taking her hand, smiling down at her and nodding at the vicar, giving his permission to proceed.

-

After the ceremony, they ambled back from the nearby church, to their house in Chelsea, enjoying the glorious sunshine on that sunny Sunday afternoon. 

"Well now Mr Turton…" 

Mr Turton mentally braced himself as Mrs Brown wandered up to the other side of Mr Turton, grabbing his other arm, the one not held by Lady Morgan, his wife.

"You kept that a secret. About your middle name," she said.

"Yes, well… it means 'strong' if you must know, Mrs Brown," he answered.

"Yeeees… but 'Valentine' has other connotations Mr Turton," she countered.

"Yes. Well… _Everything_ you mention has alternate _connotations_ Mrs Brown," he glared at her as his companions laughed. He shook his head, laughing along with them.

-

Upon returning, they went about their usual daily business until the evening. Mrs Brown had made a proper celebratory dinner for then. Not wanting to miss out on an excuse to show off her culinary skills to everyone. 

Lady Morgan and the children were invited down to the servants dining room. They were all to meet there at six o'clock, as it was more convivial to a celebration in that larger room, with everything more on hand. 

"And it's nearer to the wine cellar!" Mrs Brown had remarked.

"Which I hold the key to!" Mr Turton countered.

"Exactly! And you'll be the first of us down there, I'll wager. Especially if I tell you that Mr Jones has procured some Booth's gin, expensive french champagne and Malmsey wine especially for the occasion!" Mrs Brown smiled at him.

He tutted and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smile at the thought of the Malmsey. Especially as it was the last thing he'd drunk upon leaving his previous employ. It would be most appropriate to use a glass of it to mark another great change in his circumstances. Although this time a much happier one.

Mrs Brown had also made a huge cake for them all to enjoy.

"It's your favourite Mr Turton. A large fruitcake!" she happily announced, as she placed it upon the centre of the table, winking at him. _There's an insult in there somewhere_ he thought, squinting his eyes at her.

-

The daily routine continued in much the same way. 

After all, if a housekeeper was thought of as 'the mistress by proxy', then a butler was 'the master by proxy' of a household.

The only difference to his daily routine, was that his belongings were moved upstairs, to the empty room next to hers. It was her previous husband's room, but had never been used while they were married. Instead, it had been repurposed as a general store room. Now though, it was tidied up and a new bed bought and placed there. So now, if anyone were to pry, then all would seem as it should. 

Also, he was no longer uniformed in his usual black morning suit, but instead he'd been given free reign at an outfitters. He had a wardrobe and chest full of several frock coats, trousers, accompanying shirts, waistcoats, ties, undergarments and footwear to choose from. All appropriate to his new Lordly rank. Even so, he still chose to wear dark colours for his trousers and coats, black or as near to black as he could get. His only concessions to colour were his waistcoats and ties, his personality was unleashed in their bright and completely outrageous designs! 

-

"Er… you don't mind… me occupying the room that belonged to your husband?" he'd later asked, with a worried look clouding his face.

She smiled, shaking her head vehemently.

"No, it is your room now. The ghost of my husband won't mind, he never resided there anyway," she shrugged. "And he would most definitely approve of your actions to protect me and mine!"

He shyly looked at her, a small smile playing on his face.

"It's my pleasure to be of service in such a way. After all, I did promise that I would always do my utmost to protect you, my Lady. Just remember that as long as I'm here, no one can hurt you."

"Thank you Mr Turton," she smiled at him. "Oh, do you remember back, to our Coger's meeting, just after you started here, where you asked about your place in the household?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I do, my Lady," he frowned, trying to recall the conversation.

"Do you remember laughing at my making the preposterous suggestion that you were the king to my queen? The head of this household?" she prompted him.

He chuckled. "Yes! Yes, I do!"

"Not so preposterous now though, is it?"

"No. No it isn't!" he laughed, shaking his head at the whole way that his life had turned around in such a short space of time.

**Author's Note:**

> There are several odd and complicated bequests and wills that litter Victorian history. The most famous one, linked with Brodsworth Hall (near Doncaster, Yorkshire), is Thellusson’s infamous will. In fact the Thellusson Will is still renowned in legal history, and it is widely believed that it was  
> immortalised by Charles Dickens in Bleak House, as the Jarndyce versus Jarndyce case.


End file.
